You haven’t seen your dad in ages. Having been told by your mother that he ran off years ago because he didn’t want to care for you anymore.

You believed this, wholeheartedly. Until one day at the ripe age of sixteen: you got curious, seeking him out.

Now here you are, sitting on John, your father’s sofa as he pulls out a folder. Containing all of your little girl drawings that he has kept all these years.

“I didn’t want to leave.” He speaks, his tone more serious than it had been before, yet he still looked at you with such tenderness.